


Truth Is, I Miss You

by LetsgoRavendors



Series: Parrlyn One-shots [1]
Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Parrleyn - Freeform, Six the musical - Freeform, finally I wrote some angsty shit, parrlyn, six - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26353855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetsgoRavendors/pseuds/LetsgoRavendors
Summary: September 7th was certainly not Anne Boleyn’s favorite day. In fact, she dreaded the date ever since reincarnation.And who could blame her? After all, Elizabeth’s birthday without Elizabeth was just another reminder of what Anne had been forced to leave behind.Luckily, her family is there to help her pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine Parr
Series: Parrlyn One-shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921840
Kudos: 49





	Truth Is, I Miss You

**Author's Note:**

> TW: angst? None really

1 minute. . .

Anne stared at her bedside clock, watching the seconds slowly creep by.

45 seconds. . .

The brunette’s eyes had been focusing intently on the green digital numbers for so long it was starting to blur.

30 seconds. . .

_Time isa cruel bitch_ , The second queen mused to herself, _moving slower the more you wanted it to speed up_. But at the same time, Anne wished it would move even slower so maybe she could postpone the date longer. Either that or go at light speed and get the day over with altogether.

15 seconds. . .

Boleyn bit the inside of her cheek and her stomach lurched. This wasn’t the first time she had dealt with this feeling, but every time, without fail, she felt so anxious.

3\. . . 2. . . 1. . .

12:00 am.

“Happy birthday, _ma bibiche,_ ” Anne whispered into the empty bedroom. She was afraid if she spoke any louder her voice would betray her and break, but she hoped her whisper was loud enough to reach wherever her Lilibet was.

“I love you so much, Lilibet. . . I wish I was there to see you grow up. To see your beautiful face again and hear your wonderful laugh.” She gave a shuttering sigh, “what I wouldn’t give to have that back. . .”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Anne laid down. She wasn’t tired in the slightest, 12 am was still rather early for her, but there was nothing she felt like doing.

The brunette wasn’t sure how long she had been lying there for, but evidently, it was long enough for more than just a few tears to fall. She tried to ignore the cold feeling her tears left on the pillow, how the dampness rested against her cheek and made her shiver, and rolled to her other side.

She missed her baby so much, and if given the chance to go back and spend the time she was robbed with her, Boleyn might just do it. Yes, there were things—amazing, important things—that tied Anne to this life but. . . Lilibet was her daughter. Reading articles and biographies about her life or looking at portraits just wasn’t close to the real thing.

And she was allowed to _want_ that. Hell, any mother—or parent—would want that time with their child. Only Anne knew it wasn’t in the cards.

No, her reincarnation—which she was extremely grateful for, don’t get her wrong—was the extent of miracles for this lifetime.

Anne was eternally thankful for getting this second chance. Without it she wouldn’t have been able to mend the bonds with both Aragon and Jane, to meet one of her best friends, Anna, finally become closer to her cousin, Kitty, and meet the love of her life, Cathy.

She’d been given the opportunity to start over (well, to a certain extent, she hadn’t been brought back as an infant). To become the person she wanted to be, who she either wasn’t allowed to be the past life or who she didn’t get the chance to become.

All in all, Anne thought that her former self would be proud of her. Proud of how much she’d grown. Making the time and effort to reconcile with Aragon and Jane wasn’t something 14th century Anne Boleyn would have done. Past her had struggled and dealt with so many things that forgiveness hadn’t crossed her mind.

Not that she despised both women, but during her past life her goal was just to survive (though look how that turned out) and in the present, it could be different. It was different now. The former queens she would once have viewed as competition were now her closets family.

A part of her felt guilty for even thinking about wanting more. Greedy, even, but she was only human. A human who had somehow been reincarnated after 484 years of being quite dead into a different body, but maintaining the same consciousness and memories—which no doctor or any other expert in their field could figure out—but still human nonetheless.

Humanity was many things, but perfect was definitely not one of them. And in true mortal fashion, she dearly missed the thing she had lost.

— — —

Anne had no idea how or when she had fallen asleep, yet the next thing she knew she was walking up to bright sunlight hitting her face.

Sitting up, she thought bitterly about how the atmosphere outside had the audacity not to reflect the yearning and emptiness she felt on the inside. Of course, that was a bit mellow dramatic, but Boleyn didn’t care.

This was the now the third September 7th since the queens had been reincarnated and though Anne had gotten better about not locking herself in her room for weeks at a time before and after, grieving, she still avoided social interaction.

So no one questioned it when Anne holed herself up in her room after grabbing a bowl of cereal from the kitchen that morning. Not that they didn’t want to comfort the second queen, that is.

The queens knew September 7th was, for lack of a better word, a sad day. As was any important date from any of the queen’s past lives: death days, birthdays, and others like that.

And these dates were approached differently for each queen, but on days, like such, for Anne, the brunette preferred to be alone. There was the exception of Cathy and Kat, but both knew when to give Boleyn space.

It wasn’t because Anne didn’t think the other queens could help or comfort her, it was because she simply didn’t _like_ to talk about these things. Not unprompted that is, not like Jane who was very open about her feelings. No, Anne Boleyn was the exact opposite in that way. She dealt with and went through emotions inwardly—in both lives—and wasn’t going to change now.

Plus, she knew perfectly well the queen wouldn’t have it if they found out all the silent tears she shed without anyone knowing. They wouldn’t let her be alone like that even if it was what she wanted.

Anne was sure there was some psychological reason why she didn’t like to express her emotions. Maybe it was some deep-rooted trauma from her past childhood or perhaps it was getting her head _fucking chopped off_ just for speaking her mind.

Times were different now, yes, but people had barely changed. They were still confusing showing venerability as expressing weakness, something Anne Boleyn was not.

— — —

Cathy was sitting on the cushy armchairs in the living room, reading this week’s pick from the library, _Murder on the Oriente Express_. She’d gotten into a mystery genre binge once she’d stumbled upon the works of P.D. James and Ngaio Marsh.

Well, ‘reading’ was a loose term for it. In reality, she was just staring at the page in deep thought, her mind somewhere else than in the pages of Agatha Christie.

The sixth queen mind was on Anne. She had taken extra care in observing her girlfriend that morning. Boleyn had woken up late, not a usual cause for concern, but considering what the date was, it wasn’t a good sign. Apart from giving Parr a ‘good morning’ hug and kiss, and mustering a weak smile to Kat, she didn’t interact with anyone else.

Her neck wasn’t red or irritated, signally that lucky she hadn’t had a nightmare during the night, but that was the only comforting thing about her appearance. Her eyes were very un-Anne like, their usual bright and mischievous gleam was replaced with a look Cathy could only describe as empty. It absolutely broke her heart. She wanted to be there for her girlfriend but knew when she heard her door shut soundly, Anne didn’t want company.

“Cathy? Are you busy?” Anna’s voice brought her thoughts to a screeching halt.

Parr cleared her throat, hoping her mind would clear up along with the action, “well, I’m reading right n—“

“No, you’re not. You’ve been stuck on that page for the last half an hour.” Cleves countered and before Catherine could object, continued, “It’s about Anne.”

This immediately got the blue queen’s attention and she looked up, intrigued.

“Since it’s Lizzie’s Birthday and. . . yeah. We—“ Anna gestured to Jane and Kitty who had entered the room, “we're thinking about doing something special for her.”

“So that maybe she has a fonder memory of the day,” Kat concluded, taking a seat next to Jane. Cleves nodded at the statement before all eyes turned to Cathy.

“That sounds like a great idea.” The sixth queen affirmed she would be willing to do anything if it made Anne feel better.

“Okay good you agree, because Aragon is already talking to Maria about the plan—“

— — —

Anne sat her desk chair, twirling a pencil between her fingers. She had sat down to write an entry in her journal, that's what her therapist had recommended she do whenever she felt like she wanted to get her emotions out. Only now she didn’t feel like writing anything, her mind, while still buzzing felt blank, ironically.

It was like the words from her head to the paper got lost in translation and explaining how she felt seemed impossible.

Abruptly she heard a pair of feet make their way down the hall and stopped at her door. She knew it was Cathy before the sixth queen could even knock on the door, her footsteps on the creaky stairs gave it away (Cathy always hurried up the stairs, Anne never understood why).

“C’mon in, babe,” Boleyn said, just loud enough for Catherine to hear.

“Hey, you.” Cathy greeted softly after closing the door again, and Anne was glad she wasn’t outwardly expressing pity on how terrible the second queen must look. She hadn’t gotten much sleep and wasn’t in the mindset to give a shit about how disorganized she looked.

“Hey.” The brunette attempted a smile and motioned for Parr to come to sit on her lap. Once she did, Anne buried her face into the nape of Cathy’s neck and wrapped her arms around her waist to hug Catherine close. Parr could tell she needed this and gladly hugged her back, letting a comfortable silence fall between them.

After a minute Catherine spoke, “How are you feeling?”

Anne shrugged, “You know, little dark, little gloomy.”

“Did you just quote Hercules?”

“Maybe.” Cathy could feel her girlfriend smile ever so slightly against her neck.

“. . .Would you. . . Would you go back? Back to Mae, if you could?” Anne asked tentatively after a beat.

Cathy thought for a moment. This hadn’t been the first time she’d considered what she would do if given the chance to see her daughter again, though she could never come up with a straight ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer.

Finally, Parr spoke, “If I didn’t have you and the queens and the ladies, then yes. Absolutely, yes. But since I’ve created a new life here, I don’t think I _could_ leave.” Catherine explained, drawing various shapes on Anne’s back with her fingers. “I love Mae dearly, but either way, if I go back or stay, I’ll be missing something.”

“Why do you have to be so wise all the time?” Boleyn said, a joking tone sneaking into her voice.

“It’s perfectly alright if you would go back to see Lilibet, _mon chou_. Our situations are both dissimilar and alike. Everyone handles these things differently, but it’s important to remember you don’t have to go through it along.” Parr lifted her head up so she could be face to face with Anne, “we’re in this together.”

“As long as I have you, I’ll be forever at peace,” Anne added, her ocean green eyes swimming with sincerity and love. A smile crossed both of their faces and Anne leaned forward to connect their lips.

Before they could become too caught up in the kiss, Cathy pulled away despite Anne’s frown.

“As much as I would love to keep kissing you, you have a surprise waiting for you downstairs.” The second queen’s eyes immediately brightened to almost child-like wonder and Cathy giggled.

The couple made their way downstairs, hand intertwined. Parr led Anne into the kitchen where the green queen was surprised to see not only all the other queens but the ladies in waiting as well.

They were all smiling softly at her and her eyes flew to Maggie who had her acoustic guitar slung on her shoulder.

“Wh—?”

“Just wait, love,” Cathy whispered in her ear and a second later the kitchen lights flickered off. Only the darkness didn’t last for long as golden candlelight appeared.

She watched Jane’s face, illuminated by the orange flames, walk up to the table. Now she could finally see what she was holding: a cake.

Maggie’s fingers began to strum a few familiar chords before the others began to sing.

“Happy birthday to you. . .” Anne gave a little gasp and drew a hand over her mouth. She turned to gaze at Cathy was giving her a loving look and squeezed her hand comfortingly as she sang as well.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear, Lilibet. Happy birthday to you.” The queens’ beautiful voices harmonized perfectly on each word and it tugged at Anne’s heart how wonderful it sounded. How wonderful it was to have a family like this.

Maggie finished the song with a flourish, adding a couple more notes to the end just for show before it went quiet again.

“You wanna do the honors?” Anna asked, gesturing to the candles. Anne hoped the other’s hadn’t seen the tears in her eyes before she wiped them quickly then stepped forward. “Be sure to make a wish.”

Boleyn paused for a second, cementing the wish in her mind before blowing out the candles.

Everyone clapped softly and the lights flickered on a moment later.

“We love you, Annie. And we know we can’t take away your pain, but we’ll always be here to help you through it.” Kitty spoke and the other’s nodded in agreement.

“You couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.” Joan piped in, resulting in another round of agreements and soft chuckles from the women around the room.

“Thank you, guys. Really, I—you don’t know how much this means to me. I don’t think I’ve ever had a family—well, I mean, not like this one. They were my blood family, but you all are my real one. I’m so unbelievably thankful that you’re all in my life.” Anne finished, sniffing slightly. 

Anna then added, “Hell yeah, Bo. We’re you’re family now, we’ll always be your family.”

“Like Joan said, you’re stuck with us forever,” Maggie affirmed. For the first time that day, a true smile crossed Anne’s lips.

Yes, Anne loved Lilibet with every fiber of her being and always would. She would always miss her little girl and the time she could’ve spent with her. And now she had a family, a real _home_. One that she wouldn’t trade for the world.

What did Anne wish for? Well, she can’t say otherwise it wouldn’t come true, but she could say that it wasn’t for her family to always be there for her.

She knew that was inevitable, so there was no sense in wasting a perfectly good wish on that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I thought I should write a fic in honor of Elizabeth I’s birthday (though technically I’m a little late but shh)
> 
> *Murder on the Oriente Express is one of my favorite books by Agatha Christie and just in general. Also the book is better, fight me.
> 
> *Random tidbit but while writing this I learned something. Y’know the phrase “blood is thicker then water”? Well actually, the complete phrase is “blood of the convent is thicker then the water of the womb” which contradicts the first phrase and saying ‘the bonds you create by choice are more important then the ones bound by water of the womb’. So if anyone tries to guilt trip you with that again, now you know the actual saying 👍


End file.
